


♦ Siúil a Rún ♦

by LilKjay (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Confident!Alistair, Deal with a god, F/M, First Love, First and second person view, Heavy with feels, Life after the ultimate sacrifice, Mentions of severe illness (non graphic), More tags to be added, Multi, NSFW content (later), Non-Mage Warden, Second Chance, Self Insert, The "E" rating is there for a reason, Unrequited Love, because I am forever salty they deleted that in origins, break-up, confident!cullen, different dark ritual, human commoner origin, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LilKjay
Summary: Mythal the Protector and All-Mother, goddess of love, the patron of motherhood and justice. What it means to be her servant... Lilly hadn't dared to ask. Driven by the fear to lose her best friend just like she lost the love of her life. Never again, she swore. And so she accepted the deal Mythal offered the night before the final battle. Gave her life and freedom in exchange for his. A king they couldn't lose. But a simply farmer's daughter was expendable. She was expendable. Or so she thought.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt to write a story that is not solemnly focused on glorious sex but also on feels. In fact I will try to balance these two topics while trying to stick to the plot. The chapters will diverse in length, depending on how much I manage to write. Updates will be slow but there. I promise. 
> 
> For now I will leave the comment section without moderation in hopes that my readers will behave. Constructive critique is welcome, as are kudos and motivating comments. 
> 
> Also: The title is one of three songs I listened to while writing this story. The others are "Nothing else matters" by Metallica and "Give me love" by Ed Sherran.

 

 

_They say the words “we need to talk” force the world to stand still. But in my opinion, that’s not right. It is more like… the world stuttering, losing the smooth motion. Everything slows down till you think your heart has stopped to work. Between each breath there is an eternity. a whole lifetime passing between two blinks of an eye. And when you look up to the source of these words, see the finality in their eyes… you know._

_It is a lie. There is no room for a talk. It is a statement of why things can’t go on like they did before. Why everything you used to know suddenly gets ripped away from your trembling hands._

_You remain still, unmoving. Your shopping bags still dangling from a numb becoming hand, mind frozen as you reject the request to take a seat. Because honestly… where should you? On the couch in front of the large window, where the lights of the city glitter in your flat? Where one of two men sits, his head bowed and unable to look at you? He isn’t the one who voices the end. No, never him. He may be confident in bed, but when the other speaks, he turns into a dutiful follower._

_So your eyes shift back to him. The man who managed to make the world slow down. He looks at you, but also past. There is no emotion in his eyes readable if you were a stranger. But you’re not. The ring on the finger of your left hand is proof of that. More than seven years gave you enough time to learn what he denies the world to see._

 

 _A small twitch of the right eye, the prominent vein trailing along his temple and down, disappearing between stubble of a undercut ready for a shave. It is so easy to imagine that the glint in his eyes are unshed tears - but with a blink it’s gone. As if he knew that you saw right through his cold demeanor._ _He voices his request a second time. Just as you can read him so easily, he can read you. After all, seven years are a long time. He had been your first in this life. And till a few minutes ago… you were sure that he will also be your last. Your eyes met and for the first time it is him who looks away first. A small victory - in another lifetime. Now it only proves to show, what your heart already starts to realize._

_‘I would rather stand’ you hear yourself say. Funny, how your voice seems so steady, despite the lingering cough that plagues you at night. Your throat hasn’t caught up yet with what unfolds before you. Just slowly, slowly…. the muscles within constrict, making it harder to breathe. But you don’t show. There is no point in it. You can see it in his eyes, no longer twinkling with the unshed tears. All that is left now, is taking it in stride. Not crumbling in front of him… them._

 

 _He takes your statement as it is. A proof of your strength, which only started to grow a few days ago. And the pride washing over his face for only a heartbeat is something you will never forget. In a few weeks, you will draw strength from it. But right now you stand your ground and listen._ _He had planned this, you realize as he speaks calmly and collected. Pointing to the folders sitting innocent and silent on the glass table encircled by the three couches. For a moment your thoughts stray. How you spend each night together, each one on his own. Yours the only one stuffed with blankets and pillows, the best view on the large Tv screen at the opposite. And just like you sat there with them every night, it was clear that after some time they would join you. Drowning you in their embrace, a strong protective body on either side of your smaller one. A contrast so great, it made you laugh in the past. Where they are strong, broad, muscled and large in size… you are the exact opposite. Small and dainty, the few curves not claimed by the illness that threatens to destroy your body made prominent by extravagant clothing. You learned quickly how to please their eye. Which sort of skirt, which combination of underwear would drive them wild._

 

_But now, nothing of that mattered anymore. Your eyes seek out his, once more. The man who once asked for your hand in marriage, who swore to protect, love and cherish you till the day you die. Sadness sneaks in your heart, but remains unnoticed. There is ice now, protecting the delicate thing within your chest from breaking apart. With each word he speaks, the ice grows. You force yourself to listen, to accept. No need to object, to argue. He made his decision and will not be swayed._

_The next appointments, he wrote down on a white paper next to the folders. He points at it, stating that he took care of everything. A cap will bring you from now on to the meetings with doctors. to the tests which ensure that your body keeps fighting the illness inside you. When they are gone, you will wonder how to do all this on your own. But right now, you can’t think of the future. You just stay there, listen dutifully. Another follower of his, in a way._ _When he is done with his explanation he turns to look at you once more. Worry crosses his face, followed by fleeting regret. But he stands to his decision. And when he finally rises, the other man does too. As if he had only waited for it. To fleet this moment, this scenery._

_There is no touch of goodbye when they leave. No kiss, no embrace. It would only shatter your self-control and their resolve to leave. Instead you look at each other once more, your hand tightening around the plastic of the shopping bag you still stupidly cling upon. These full lips you loved to kiss part as if he wants to say something, anything. But then he decides against it - and you thank him silently with a barely there smile._

 

_As the door clicks shut behind them, you close your eyes. The impact of what had transpired hasn’t reached your mind yet. Another thing to be thankful for. It will take some time to realize. But even then, you do not cry. There is no use, point in it. It will not change the fact._

 

_For now, you tilt your head down, willing your body to take deep, steady breaths. With a soft thud the shopping bags hit the floor as you let them go. Your steps are silent as you close the distance between the only couch that hadn’t been occupied earlier. The pillows and blankets are freshly washed, no lingering scent clinging to them. It is thoughtful of him, another sign of his methodic demeanor that brought you so much comfort in the past._

_He knows that you will end up there, eventually. First sitting, then lying on the couch with your knees pulled up to your chest. Your favorite blanket covering your body, a vain attempt to shield your body from the ice spreading from within. Eyes unfocused and blank, you stare into the general direction of the tv screen. Unseing. Willing this night to end just a little bit faster._

_And despite what everyone says… that the time stands still in a moment of shock. It feels more like… a carrousel. With you as the center, everything around you starting you spin. Slowly first and then faster, till all is a blur. Till you have to close your eyes to fight the bile rising in your throat. Pain is selfish. You don’t care for the world outside. All that matters is the pain, the hurt, the ache you feel. And it will be like this… for a long time._

 

_The first days pass, and you act like nothing happened. You still have your friends on tumblr, instagram and facebook. They don’t know exactly what is wrong with you, too uncomfortable, uncertain to ask. Yes, some of them noticed that you weren’t available for two-three days. But that happened before, no need to worry. That everything is different now… it is strange. Even to yourself. But you accept it. Take it as a challenge._

_There are downsides, you learn. Before… you never had to bother with shopping food or drinks. It was simply… there. They supplied you with everything, so you could concentrate fully on the joys of life. Be it writing, listening to music or playing video games. In a way, it was like the life of a pretty fairytale princess. You woke up when you wanted, got up or not. No one judged you when you stayed in bed all day. No, you even got your meals brought to bed sometimes. No need to change something. It made you happy, content. At least that was, what you thought. But he noticed it, even before you did. The lingering, longing glances when you were denied the things you knew you could do…. if they only let you. It was one of the things he said as you broke up._

 

_Smothering the flame that once had been so bright and beautiful. Only a spark left, not at all the woman he, they, came to love. It was their doing and your allowance to let them. A fatal combination._

 

 _Something that gave you strength, whenever you thought you couldn’t do a task. You can. Of course you can. You could do it before - it only had been some time. So you start to lower your goals. Take small steps back into autonomy._ _The cat and turtle living in your flat… you gave them away to friends and the sweet neighbor’s girl. How could you care for another being, if you weren’t ready to take care of yourself? It hurt to let them go… but you knew that in the end it was the better choice. They would be cherished and loved. But even with them gone, sometimes things tried to overwhelm you. Still, you reminded yourself to take small steps._

_Bought a few seeds and soil from the local store and planted them at home. Tasked yourself with watering them every day, taking small delight in the fact that they grew under your care. Often you watched them in adoration, cocoa-carton in hand and drinking straw between your red painted lips. It was impossible to see them grow by simply staring at them, but you still imagined it. Next, you tried your hand in baking. Small cakes and simple cookies, recipes so easy you memorized them quickly. They never tasted as good as his cookies… but it was a start. And slowly, you forgot how his cookies tasted at all. Along with his voice, their voices. How they spoke, how an “I love you” from their lips sounded like. They never texted or called you, and you also kept your distance. Going that far as in deleting their numbers from your phone. It was a blissful silence, most of the time._

 

_When a friend asked you what happened, you smiled (even though they can’t see) and played everything down. Your closest friends found out eventually. But even then, you refused to talk about it. The ache, pain and hurt lingering in your frozen heart is yours alone. Some days it’s overwhelming, made you choke. Other days it’s easier, almost bearable. Society lied about the world staying still… but is right about another praise. It will get easier with time. Your smile has faded, maybe. Isn’t as brilliant as before. But you manage. Ironically, appointments go well. Your health increases, meeting by meeting. The amount of pills and tinctures lessens. Slowly you improve, even though you know that your body will never be a strong as it had been before the illness._

_Twenty-three years, but you look so much younger. Five years at least, your body-size of 5, 1 feet concealing the image of a proper adult. The illness has changed your body, your appearance. Your hair seems longer, eyes a tad larger than average.The sunkissed tan you sported in your youth has faded, leaving a pale complexion behind. Where once had been muscle from daily exercises such as dancing and swimming, now only lean muscles over dainty bones give a hint of the strength you once possessed. But still… you improve week by week. The hip bones once so prominent fade under a thin layer of fat. You’re still too weak for a proper muscle build up, barely able to lift 20 pounds at the first try._

 

_But still… you manage… you fight._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

With a soft click the pen touches the surface of the birchwood desk. Leather creaks as I lean back, rolling stiff shoulders to ease the cramp build there. Ink has stained my finger and the left side of my cheek. Visible as I glance in the small mirror sitting on my desk. Eyes tired and with dark circles underneath, the sapphire blue of the iris glossy and clouded. It matches the ink somehow, like a strange kind of makeup. Hip-long hair is pulled up in a loose bun, several shorter strands framing my face still. A light brown, just recently freed of the several semi-permanent-dyes I forced my hair through. The loose braided bun I normally use to wear is the reason behind the soft waves and curls. But after taking a shower and the call of a friend earlier, I didn’t had the time to braid properly. And so the bun will have to do, for now. The inkstain however… can’t be left there. With a sigh I push away from the desk and rise, muscles in my thighs trembling at the sudden work I force them through. A grimace obscures my features and I breathe several times deeply, till the rushing of blood in my ears stops, the trembling subsides.

 

It is silent as I leave my room, bare feet curling slightly as they make contact with chilly bathroom tiles after being that long on soft carpeted floor. My gait is still unsteady and one hand slides along the wall, a subtle support if needed. Silence is interrupted by splash of water and the purring sound of the soap dispenser as I put some on the washcloth. Not missing a beat I set up to my task, cleaning my face in soft circles. It feels good, even though it is the only human contact in a long time. The one thing I haven’t been able to master yet. Build up the courage and go outside. And why should I? Food can be bought via internet, and sent to my flat directly. In time of high-technology, there is no need to go outside. As I look at myself in the mirror once more, sapphire blue eyes widen a fraction. A sharp inhale as another tiny shard pierces my heart.

The washcloth on my left hand does not conceal it. It is still there. A small band of light skin on my left ringfinger, prominent even after months. Absently I trace it, eyelids fluttering close  as I try to banish the sadness. No. I don’t want to feel. Don’t want to miss. Filling my lungs with fresh air, eyes opening anew. Red painted lips pulled in a tight line I drop the washcloth in the sink and turn away. Gait slightly steadier now, my will to reach the room and my desk as soon as possible a impressive motivation. There, I stop and swallow hard before sinking down in the chair once more. I worked so hard… but it is still impossible for me to fight this loneliness. My gaze falls on the five pages sitting in front of me on the desk. A flourish handwriting in an ancient style, my attempt at banning sad thoughts and stating my progress over the last few months to paper.

 

I succeeded in battling my illness. The last blood results were good. Great, actually. Seizures which had plagued me in the past are dampened down to a minimum, thanks to the small device below my collarbone. It is still alien to feel the round disc-like thing, even more because it was visible whenever I looked in the mirror. But with the weight I gained, the disc’s presence becomes less nowadays. Only detectable if you search for it.

The men who helped me to accept the device… it had been months since I spoke to them. Weeks since I heard from them. My brother hinted once that he keeps them up to date on my progress and it felt like a slap in the face. Yes, I can understand that they still care. That they are proud of what I achieved. But on the other side… If they hadn’t left, they would have seen the success first hand. I shake my head and push these thoughts away. What’s done is done. No reason to overthink it.

 

The past is the past… manicured eyebrows furrow at the last line of thinking. The past… Tongue darting out to wet red painted lips I lean forward and to the side, the armrest of the chair digging uncomfortably in my chest. I ignore the discomfort and pull open the bottom drawer, rummaging through the several trinkets kept stored in there. Pencils of different color, lipsticks not favored anymore. Small figurines I collected when I was younger. But all that isn’t what I am searching for. it is something else. Finally fingertips touch the old worn copper, chilly to the touch.

It takes a few seconds to retrieve the small box from the drawer, several trinkets falling on the carpet in process. I don’t spare them a second glance as I place the box on the desk. Coppery and smelling just like the metal itself, the box is wider in size than the pages underneath. No engravings at the sides or bottom, only at the top is a single one. I haven’t touched this box in a decade but still it looks just as I remembered it. No greenish splotches of oxidized copper, No scratches or other damages.

 

A soft sigh leaves my lips as I trace the engraving on the top of the boy. It is a single word, more specifically… my name. Lilly. Faintly I can remember the day I purchased it and requested the engraving. Sunny and hot, the marketplace had been so loud with activity. Merchants praising their goods, little children running around between the stalls and playing their tag game. Another wave of emotions washes over me. Years of regret, a loneliness not even the two recent men in my life could chase away. My vision starts to blur and I blink hastily, using the sleeve of my white knee-long nightgown to wipe a escaping tear away. A deep breath to collect myself, then I open the boy with a trembling hand.

 

Inside, nestled on plush dark red velvet, are three items of different size, shape and color.

The first is a dried rose, it’s red petals crumbled after all these years to pieces. Only the heart of the flower is intact and the soft floral scent tickles my nose. Right next to it is a small coin with the likeness of a woman engraved on it. Silvery and worn, engravings no longer sharp but smooth. As if someone had rubbed with his thumb over it many many times. Neglecting the rose for a moment I pick up the coin. The man who gave it to me… I don’t even know if he is still alive. Too much time has passed. To great the distance that separates us now. Greater than any ocean or galaxy could ever be. My smile turns sad as I close my fingers around the coin, bringing it up to my lips. I can barely remember him. The way he used to smile, to laugh. All obscured by layers of fog, memories distinct and barely there anymore.

 

My eyes fall on the last item inside the box. It’s a lengthy vial, filled with black sirupy liquid. The source of my illness, in a way. Attached to the vial is a lengthy stripe of leather, functioning as makeshift necklace. I study both thoughtfully, hesitantly, before undoing the clasp and slipping the necklace over my head. The vial comes to rest between my breasts, low neckline of my nightdress accenting it in a foreboding manner. It feels strange to wear it again and somehow… not right. The illness no longer curses through my blood, after all. What is left of it, isn’t worth to be mentioned. Still I keep the necklace on as I rise once more, the worn coin clutched in a fist.Not wanting to let go just yet. Carrying both I stumble towards my bed, cursing silently as my legs once more deny their proper work. At least there isn’t a dizzy spell this time.

 

Soft silk rustles as I turn on my back, looking blankly up at the ceiling. My thoughts drift far away, back to the night where I made the deal that changed my life. To save my best friend and the country I loved. A king they couldn’t lose… But a simple farmer’s daughter… that was okay. I was expendable… no matter how much my friend had argued. And just like Mythal had predicted he turned on me as it was time to take the final blow. Not only confessing his love to me which had been cruel enough on it’s own… but also pushing me to the ground before unsheathing his blade and charge. If it weren’t for the deal I made… he would have faced his death that day. Just like he had planned. A grey warden is needed to kill the archdemon. The one who delivers the killing blow… he takes in the essence of the dying tainted god, their souls merge. This ultimately destroys the grey warden and also the old god. Except…

 

I squeeze my eyes shut and roll on my side, facing the wall. Red painted lips start to tremble, but still no tears fall. I can’t cry when the fault is ultimately mine. I made the deal with Mythal. My life in exchange for his. Be part of a dark ritual that she conducted, dooming my very soul to a life as her servant. What exactly that entailed… I didn’t dared to ask back then. But I am sure she wouldn’t have told me anyway. And so it had been me who died that day atop Fort Drakon, taking my last breath in the arms of my crying best friends. If I concentrate just a tiny bit, I still can recall their faces. Sweet Leliana’s tear stricken face, her ginger red hair tousled and dirty with blood and grime. She held me clutched in her trembling arms, calling my name over and over.

Next to her the crow. Once send to assassinate us, in the end a cherished and beloved friend. He also called my name, among endearments he chose just for me. Knowing how much I hated them, clinging to the fragile hope I would respond. But I didn’t and for the first time since I knew him… Zevran cried. Tears streamed down his smudged face as he dropped his daggers, the weapons no longer needed as the enemy retreated in a hurry. Their ambush stopped with their leader dead.

But above all… I remember the sound of my name, coming from my best friend`s lips. Growing louder and more desperate the closer he came, stumbling and staggering as he was weakened from delivering the final blow. It was his face I saw last before darkness took me, these hazel brown eyes wet and filled with despair. My fellow grey warden and best friend Alistair. He ripped me out of Leliana’s arms, limb body dangling in his strong embrace as he cried my name over and over.

 

‘No! Lilly no! Please no!’ His voice still rings in my ears, the way he begged and pleaded with the Maker to take him. To bring me back. Not knowing that it had been my choice to die. I couldn’t live in a world where my one and only love hated me and my best friend decided to kill himself.

 

Many times since then I had wondered what Mythal’s intentions had been to seek me out that night before the battle. Why she decided to offer me a deal that till now hadn’t any merits for her. A servant of her I might be. But instead of living the life as such, she gave me a new one. In a world she created to my pleasure alone, to help me forget the loss of friends, the life I lived… and the man I loved more than life itself.

  
  
That night when I lay in my bed, I couldn’t predict that Mythal watched over me still. Unknown by me, she always had been there. Holding a protective hand above me, shielding me from life-threatening harm and allowing my body and soul to heal. She had chosen me for a greater purpose, noticing that we shared so many character traits. The want to protect the ones we held dear. The longing for love and a life as mother. She couldn’t achieve that, not with the boundaries that kept her shackled. That`s why she made me her servant. Helped me me to live that life. By giving me another chance. Although I have to admit… I didn’t saw it as chance at first.

 

 


End file.
